


By the way, can you survive an assassination?

by Is_anybody_here



Category: DanPlan, Danplan-freeform, Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Assassin AU, First work - Freeform, Gen, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-12-01 23:49:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Is_anybody_here/pseuds/Is_anybody_here
Summary: DanPlan au where everyone is part of the same assassination business.Dan, Jay and Stephen are placed on the same job with the newest researcher, Hosuh. It seems like such an easy job.But everyone at this job has secrets, and when the people responsible for your safety won’t tell you anything, survival becomes a much harder goal to achieve.Rated mature for violence and swearing.*This is my first work, so I’m sorry if it’s ooc, any criticism is welcome!*





	By the way, can you survive an assassination?

The biggest lie he’d been told growing up, Stephen believed, was that violence solved nothing. It could solve a lot of things. Just not the things adults wanted you to solve.

Although, even Stephen could see how children being in this situation might complicate things. As far as he knew, children didn’t know how to wash blood off bathroom tiles, or how many rounds a Glock-19 held (15, by the way), or why it’s important to bring at least three backup knives. Or, maybe they did. Hell if Stephen knew what kids did.

All this to say, Stephen could see the point of violence. What he could not see the point in, was teammates.  
Okay, okay, hear him out...humans are useless.  
His point was proven thoroughly when, as he reached to grab his third knife, the man across from him shot four bullets.

He got hit once. Seriously, if you’re going to shoot people for breaking your window, smashing your table, denting your wall and trying to stab you, have the decency to aim first. It’s about as polite as you could be, given the circumstances.

It hit his left shoulder. Not even his dominant arm, are you kidding me? He grabbed some of the smashed table and used it to shield his face as he sprinted across the room towards the man. Two more bullets left in the gun pointed at him. Ten metres left, even then not a garanteed free stab, and another gunshot wasn’t ideal, who knew how many cleaners this guy had still in the house. Still, there wasn’t a single moment in Stephen’s life where he wasn’t reckless, he wouldn’t start when he was running towards a bullet.

Another shot, and most of the table-sheild splintered off. No more cover, but just one more shot. Good odds. Stephen charged. The man’s limbs provided a small challenge, and he winced as a lucky hit smacked his injured arm. Push in, create a chance, and...

The man fell limp. Blood dribbled from the right side of his head in a steady stream. A small bullet, used to create the least amount of blood splatter. Outside the smashed window, a figure from the building across the street closed his window, packed up his gun, and silently left the hotel room without staying one night. This man had put no extra details, had stayed alone, and been clear as to which street his room looked out on. To anyone wondering, he left a tip for room service.

Stephen watched this with his knife inches from the man’s left rib. He stayed there for a few seconds, willing his eyes away from the now empty hotel room. He turned, and stabbed the dead man in the left side of his head. Clutching his injury, he stomped to the window, and climbed out the room.

Fucking bullets.

Fucking snipers.

Fucking Daniel Lim.

********

The worst thing Daniel had ever believed was that you could always follow your dreams. This wasn’t bad advice, of course, just not something to base life decisions around.

When he was ten, he had dreamed of being famous, in movies and shows, maybe even making his own.

Now however, telling anyone who he was had the added side-effect of compromising his entire life. 10 year old Daniel had decidedly not wanted to be a killer. Life had a way of throwing you into freezing-cold water just to test the temperature.

It wasn’t his choice, really. He didn’t know anyone who’d do this as a choice.

As he drove back to the warehouse they were currently using as a workplace, he reflected on the job he’d just completed. The hit was a powerful man, but his way of dodging taxes, fair wages and any responsibility was enough for someone to get in touch with them. He didn’t know who. Researchers didn’t like getting attached to assassins, and he didn’t like getting attached to hits.

Sniping: not the most social job ever, who knew?

Probably why he trained as a sniper. His eyesight and ability to read people from so far away were invaluable to his job, and the distance left some space. If that space still existed, the person on the other end wasn’t a person, they were a hit.

Daniel wasn’t a nervous person around gore. Blood and broken bones were as second to him as breathing or walking. He just didn’t understand why someone would willingly be so close to someone they were going to kill.  
It wasn’t the death that made him weary, it was the life beforehand, the possibilities after.

This lead him back to his partner in this not-quite-crime, Stephen Ng. He had nothing against the man as a person, he was just...

Aggressive.

...and loud.

...and violent.

Nothing Daniel could hold against him, really. If anything, the job called for that kind of ruthlessness, just like his did. So no, there were no problems Daniel had against Stephen.

He just didn’t think the feeling was mutual.

Still, as long as he could trust Stephen to not stab, maim and/or kill him, Daniel trusted him.

If only this was the thing for all his coworkers.

********

Jay knew many things. He knew, as the newest member of their business, that he wasn’t expected to do much. He knew that his job was the most undesired in the company, and he knew what the job entailed.

He knew the kind of reputation torturers get, and it didn’t bother him.

There were lots of stories of torturers going mad, injuring teams, getting caught by police, everything. If he wasn’t told when he applied, he heard every ghost tale on his first day.

Very few tortures even go out on hits, just wait for active teams to bring the guy back. This left him time to wonder the room he was meant to work in.

The floor was dusty, with the kind of dust you only get when things have been left alone on purpose, instead of just inconsistent cleaning. The walls were brick and metal sheets. They were dented, scratched at, rusted, cracked or otherwise in disrepair. This room wasn’t for appearances.

If you got them to talk fast enough, you might not even have to take the blidfold off.

Dimly lit at night, with massive windows at the top of the walls and few working bulbs, the sun shone on an array of knives, guns, chains, and other such playful things. If he really were crazy, this would be Jay’s playground.

Very few others trusted torturers, as they never had to actually interact with them, and it was difficult to get along with someone holding an axe when you have been told every weapon could turn on you at any point.

(Scare Tactics arn’t okay unless you plan to kill them after, apparently.)

Still, Jay was good at making people talk, in interrogation or out. Maybe he wouldn’t make best friends, but he could still trust them, right?

I mean, outside of people here, who else could he trust?

********

The first thing Hosuh learnt was to always get the other persons side. Never go into an argument with only half your weapons.

As he grew older, Hosuh kept this with him. One view can’t prove much, and one line by itself doesn’t create a shape. Because of this, Hosuh loved to learn things.  
He searched tirelessly for details, asked others to help him, and it was to the surprise of no one that he got a job researching.

What he researched would have made everyone who knew him doubt if they were the same person.  
When he got a job looking into the lives of potential hits, he imediatly started going more into detail. It wasn’t just for fun now, people’s lives were on the line. Hosuh took callers, made factfiles, created mission plans and did his best to not get in the way. He was the perfect researcher, if a bit clumsy.

But he never asked for details on hits. Everyone has a quirk, and his happens to be that, for all he knows on the living, the dead are a topic best left alone. Medical files on anything more than small cuts were filled out quickly and with minimal looks at the injury, post hit reports were sometimes ripped at the edges from how hard he gripped them, and God forbid he sees the torture rooms.

So yeah, he was a detailed, hardworking, kind of introverted worker, and he was fine with that.

Really, it was better than the alternative.

********

This is a business of hundreds of people, and yet this story will focus on four. Not because they are particularly interesting, in fact some are quite normal, but because these four have a way of looking at their worlds that is unique, and, when put together, these views create quite a story. A story of violence, weapons, friendship and, most importantly, of surviving the worst of their respective worlds.

But first, they have to survive each other.

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone listening, my tumblr is who-is-there, come say hello.
> 
> Any comment, critique or kudos is appreciated.


End file.
